Regrets and Redemption in the Rain
by Bexara
Summary: Mukuro leaves during a meeting and gets caught in a rain storm. The rain reminds him of things best forgotten. He seeks shelter under a tree when Tsuna arrives and things get complicated. BL, Mukuro x Tsuna 10YL versions


**Author's Notes:** This was written for a friend of mine who requested Mukuro x Tsuna. It ended up being full of angst and not sneaky/funny at all. It's short, bittersweet, but has an implied HEA. No smexing, but there is a kiss. It is also 10YL versions of both characters. Comments are welcome.

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The sharp, damp scent of rain hung upon the air like a parasite, clinging and pervading until each breath he took was filled with its contaminated stench. Most people would enjoy the smell, thinking it clean and crisp. Murmuring their sickeningly sweet platitudes of "how refreshing" or "it washes all the grime away." Mukuro wasn't most people, however. The wretched stink only made him want to vomit. Water wasn't "clean" or "purifying." It was an insidious monster that caused rot and decay and madness. He should know. How long had he spent in that dark container, surrounded by that dank, noxious brew. Unable to hear or see. Only the feel of that slimy liquid rolling and crawling over his body like millions of tiny, invisible maggots. An hour? A day? A month? A year? It didn't matter. Even now, ten years later, he couldn't stand the sensation of water slicing over his skin. Baths were impossible, showers brief and hellish. Mukuro laughed bitterly under his breath at the irony that he, who was feared by so many, had such an appalling weakness.

It was not in his nature to be caught so unaware like this. He normally would have never set a foot outside in such disgusting conditions, but he hadn't been thinking clearly. There had just been too many of them in there, those vile and pandering mafioso. With their lying mouths and conniving hearts, it was all he could do not to bring the rain of blood they so secretly craved right to their very doorstep. He could do it, oh so easily. Wanted to so bad his whole body vibrated with the need to exact terrible, righteous vengeance on those putrid hypocrites. Yet he was stopped so effortlessly by a pair of soft, amber eyes. Still innocent, still trusting, still kind and good even after all these years of standing at the top of the world's most powerful mafia family. It was those same eyes that drew him back, each time he swore this visit to the Vongola mansion be the last. _How the mighty Rokudo Mukuro had fallen_, he thought mockingly to himself.

The rain started pouring in earnest. Cursing his own weakness and stupidity, he dashed for a large laurel tree just off to his left, hoping its massive branches would somehow shield him from the deluge. He was in luck. The canopy provided a sufficient umbrella so that only a few drops of rain splattered on him. Shrugging out of his waterlogged coat, he let it fall to the ground and leaned back against the wide trunk of the tree. He closed his eyes and sighed. The damnable shower showed no signs of letting up soon. It appeared he would be stuck there for a while.

Mukuro felt him before he heard him approach. It was always thus, this detestable, unbreakable, _seductive_ bond they shared. They could always tell when the other was coming, he and Sawada Tsunayoshi. An oddity he found both amusing and unnerving. There should be no reason for such a connection. Mukuro hadn't succeeded in possessing him in the cruel way he had tried back then in the ramshackle remains of Kokuyo Land, and he hadn't been able to possess Tsuna in the base, _carnal _way he had wanted to since then. He opened his mismatched eyes to find Tsuna darting up the hill toward him. Even through the streaming rivers of rain, those eyes shone like golden brown beacons. Mukuro could not, would not, admit the relief he experienced at the sight.

When Tsuna reached him, Mukuro looked him over. His normally spiky hair was flattened by the rain, framing his face and sending rivulets of water sliding down his cheeks and nose. He must have discarded his jacket after the meeting, because he wore only his expensively tailored white dress shirt. The silk was quite ruined now from the drenching, and was plastered against his chest, leaving everything underneath quite visible.

Mukuro lifted his gaze, met those round, guileless eyes, and said somewhat derisively, "Are you an imbecile?"

"Wh-what?" Tsuna blinked, clearly not expecting the insulting question to be the first thing spoken.

Gesturing toward the downpour around them, Mukuro replied, "You came out in _this_ without an umbrella or even a coat? I can therefore only question your mental acuity."

Tsuna relaxed with a little laugh, glancing at the rain. "Yes, well, I was in a hurry I guess. Besides, you also came out without an umbrella." He turned back to Mukuro and lifted an eyebrow.

"It hadn't started raining yet when I left," Mukuro answered dismissively, but his body stiffened subtly.

"Hmm," Tsuna murmured, "but you knew it would start before you had time to get back. And, still, you went out anyway." Suddenly, his amber eyes were piercing into Mukuro's own red and blue orbs. Whether it was the hyper intuition of the Vongola blood in him, or because Tsuna truly, deeply cared about those around him, Mukuro knew that the other man was peering into his soul and finding all the dark, hidden, repulsive things he kept locked away.

Shuttering his gaze from that too perceptive one, Mukuro's tone was icy as he said, "I need not explain myself to you, Tsunayoshi. You would do better to worry about yourself. Leaving the mansion without guards was very foolish."

Tsuna's expression softened, though there was an almost bittersweet sadness to it that for once Mukuro didn't understand. He moved, coming to lean against the tree beside Mukuro.

"I don't need guards. I can take care of myself," he declared. "Besides, you are here. I'm perfectly safe with you." Sincerity and confidence rang in his words. Something in Mukuro snapped.

With quick, sudden movements, he twisted around and caged Tsuna against the tree. With one hand, Mukuro pinned the shorter man's arms above his head, affixing them against the rough bark by his wrists. His other hand grabbed Tsuna's chin, holding it in place so he could stare down at him.

"What are you doing, Mukuro?" Tsuna gasped, struggling.

"You think me tamed?" Mukuro inquired silkily. "You think all you have to do is whistle and I will come wagging my tail like a good little mafia dog?"

Tsuna stopped struggling, eyes turning fierce. "I have never once thought of you, any of you, that way!" he denied vehemently. "You, all of you, are my important, precious friends. If I could, I would make it so you wouldn't have to be within a one hundred miles of this mafia business. I thought you would have come to understand that by now."

He actually sounded a little hurt by the time he finished. Mukuro felt a twinge of … something, but he wouldn't be swayed. Not now, after leaving the claustrophobic confines of the mansion and its loathsome denizens, and then getting sucked into nightmarish memories by the rain.

Dropping his head, he placed his mouth close to Tsuna's ear. "I have never once thought of you as a _friend_," Mukuro whispered cruelly, wanting to lash out and hurt as he himself hurt. "That's just some make believe story you tell yourself so you can make yourself feel better. I'm just a tool you use when convenient, and then you put away until you need it again. But, that's fine. I have just been using you, too."

"You're wrong," the words were quiet, so low he almost had to strain to hear them. Something wet splashed his cheek, too hot to be more drops of rain. Mukuro pulled back. Tsuna was biting his lip, amber eyes blazing and spilling over. That is what he had felt. The twinge became a full blown stab of pain, right in his chest.

"You're wrong," Tsuna said again, voice husky with tears. "You're not a tool or a dog. Of all of the Guardians, you are the one I wish most I could set free from these chains. I've seen them, you know, your dreams. The memories of your childhood. I know how much you have to restrain yourself just to be in the room during our meetings. And, I remember the feeling of being in that tank with you. That's why I followed you out. I knew you wouldn't make it back before the rain hit. I didn't want you to be out here alone and surrounded by all this water. Not again."

Mukuro jerked, the impact of those words slamming into him. He searched Tsuna's face, ready to respond with cutting, biting harshness if he saw even an ounce of pity there. What he found instead on that open, beautiful, yes _beautiful_, face, and in those endless golden pools still shimmering with tears, was compassion. Compassion, understanding, kindness and something that looked suspiciously akin to affection. That look broke Mukuro. Tsuna said he wasn't a dog, but he felt like an animal. Like a beast, wounded and scarred, he wanted to howl and snarl his pain out to the storming, evening sky.

In his moment of wavering, his hold on Tsuna's wrists relaxed. He didn't realize it until two warm, slightly damp hands were cupping his face.

"Mukuro, you don't need to carry these burdens all by yourself," Tsuna's tone was imploring.

"I'm always alone," Mukuro replied hoarsely, the words seemingly ripped from him as if he hadn't meant to say them at all. Because he hadn't.

Tsuna smiled, a small, sweet smile. Exerting soft pressure, he tugged on Mukuro's face until the other was moving forward, leaning down, and their foreheads were lightly pressed against each other. "You're not alone. So many people care about you. Chrome. Ken. Chikusa. Flan." His breath wafted across Mukuro's lips as he exhaled gently and whispered, "Me."

Mukuro was sure he would be appalled if anyone saw the expression on his face right at that moment. Was it yearning, wistful, needy? He couldn't tell, but what he did know was that his mask of cruel, mocking deviltry had momentarily shattered and he felt horribly exposed.

"I don't need anyone caring about me," he tried to bluff, tried to put some distance between these turbulent, unknown emotions and the core of his being that he kept protected from the outside world.

Tilting his head back, Tsuna gazed up at him. "I do," he said gently. "I need to care about people, and have them care about me. It helps make me strong. I need _you_, Rokudo Mukuro."

"As your Mist Guardian. A shield, a weapon," Mukuro demurred, still hanging on to the last shreds of his bile, anger, pain and all the defenses he had built around himself since a child.

"No," lifting a hand, Tsuna touched a finger to his mouth to silence him. "As a friend. A companion." He tenderly rubbed his finger over Mukuro's bottom lip. "More, if you wish."

Mukuro grabbed his hand, mismatched eyes igniting at Tsuna's unexpected, suggestive action. "Tsunayoshi, you are playing with fire. Do you know what you are saying?"

Nodding, Tsuna curled his fingers around the hand holding his. "I know. I have seen how you look at me. Felt your desire. If you would have just looked deeper, you would have seen I was yours for the taking all along. But, you didn't, because you didn't _want _to see it."

Feeling alive, truly alive, for the first time in more years than he could count, Mukuro yanked Tsuna to him. Lowering his head until their lips were mere centimeters apart, he gave one last warning. "I could break you."

"Then break me," Tsuna whispered back, arms sliding up around Mukuro's neck. "Break me, and then put me back together again."

Their lips met, and Mukuro did just that.

Fin.


End file.
